#f1 starts

[skitskatdacat63]

2024 Belgian Grand Prix - Mark Webber clapping for his boy (FINALLY!)

[blueberry-obsessed]

Are they a family? Are they gay for each other?? I have no clue but they are cats that's for sure

bonus:

[aaron04jpg]

CLOCK HIS GERIATRIC ASS

[leclercskiesahead]

Hahahahahahahahahahhaahaa

When you have one (1) thing bonding you and now it’s gonna be your team’s whole personality trait

[cadillacjohnf1]

Just a quick post to point out that yesterday, 14 year-old Luna Fluxa Cross became the first female to win an FIA International Championship since 1966!

[mistressemmedi]

There's quietly quitting. And then there's whatever Sergio Perez is doing.

[hyacinthsdiamonds]

A lot of you underestimate how prevalent British bias is not only in F1 but across sports generally, and even in other industries.

Max saying he has the wrong passport in the paddock is an accurate statement. Do you think he, Seb, or Michael would've been half as vilified by the British media if they had a British passport instead? Would Fernando? Do you think Yuki would get half as much shit about his radio "conduct" if he was British? Because it's the British commentators who consistently have issues with it, and say shit like it's "unbecoming" for a driver to speak that way, ignoring that 1 it's not his first language and 2 IT WAS ENGLISH PEOPLE HE LEARNT THAT LANGUAGE FROM. Sometimes people misspeak, but Yuki has always taken accountability and apologised if he has and if he caused harm. Martin Brundle did not get nearly as much backlash from the media when he misspoke and called an Asian driver a slur while commentating. He also never apologised for it.

Alex, one of the four Brits on the grid but who drives under the Thai flag, has said that the commentators only call him British born when he does well. He was completely excluded from the Silverstone publicity about the home crowd heroes, whereas George, Lewis & Lando were heralded, not only on race weekend, but for weeks leading up to it.

Alex's statement also reminded me of this Richard Harris quote, "When I'm in trouble, I'm an Irishman. When I turn in a good performance, I'm an Englishman." Genuinely, if I took a shot every time a British organisation/person claimed a talented Irish person was actually a Brit, I'd have died from alcohol poisoning years ago.

Hell, I see George wearing the poppy pin this weekend in the lead up to remembrance Sunday. Do you know the amount of shit James McClean gets every year because he refuses to wear one? And he has very valid reasons for choosing not to wear it, yet he's torn to shreds every year by not only random people on the Internet or on the streets but by commentators and the media too.

Because of how this sport became mainstream and because no one challenged Bernie Eccleston's monopoly on broadcasting rights back in the day (people were given the opportunity to buy a share of the broadcasting rights; the idiots said no), this sport has prioritised the British voice/perspective for decades. I know the other broadcasts are just as biased for their home team/drivers, but the British one is the biggest one, as it's the main broadcast for better and more often for the worst. It's the broadcast with the most reach and influence. Their bias has to be challenged eventually if this sport ever hopes to properly expand and grow. The British bias is so difficult to miss once you start noticing it.

[inchidentalmeowmeow]

Im not saying they look like each other’s pets but…

THEY TOTALLY LOOK LIKE EACH OTHER’S PETS RIGHT???

[pucksandpower]

No better way to mark their home race than a Leclerc family front row lockout for the Monaco Grand Prix.

[skitskatdacat63]

GUYS GUYS OH MY GOD OH MY GOD

[feketeribizli]

they hate each other and the sex is awful. #loveloses

[alexturntable]

Charles: Why is the 55 in front of the 16? I thought we would be lined like *this*

Carlos: Don’t worry, no one is driving them.

Charles: Ah yeah true, true. That’s fine then.

[thef1diary]

Pornstar!Daniel - mdni

You’d always had a bit of a crush on your neighbor.

It was hard not to when he smiled at you like that—boyish, warm, the kind of smile that made you linger just a little longer on your porch, pretending you were checking the plants. He was the type who radiated easy confidence, the kind of man who could make even the mundane days feel thrilling.

During the day, Daniel was your friendly neighbor. The one who waved at you from across the street while you backed out of your driveway. The one you always ran into while walking your groceries inside, quick to ask if you needed help carrying the heavy bags. The one you made excuses to talk to—borrowing sugar, returning a dish you never actually borrowed, or simply “accidentally” bumping into him at the mailbox.

But at night? At night, you had no idea it was him who made your cheeks flush and your breath hitch.

Pornstar!Dan, whose videos you’d stumbled across on a whim one lonely evening, quickly became your favorite escape. The way he moved—slow and deliberate, commanding attention with every touch—was hypnotic. The filthy, teasing words he murmured into the camera sent shivers down your spine, especially when he urged you to touch yourself to the rhythm he set. His voice alone left your cunt dripping and aching for more.

Pornstar!Dan, who never showed his face, but that only made it better. It let you imagine anything you wanted. His body, though—god, his body was unforgettable. The taut muscles of his arms, the sharp lines of his abs, the curve of his back, and the sheer thickness of his thighs, adorned with tattoos, had you hooked.

Pornstar!Dan, who left you a panting mess, fingers buried deep inside yourself as his voice spilled through your headphones. The way he muttered “good girl” or playfully degraded his viewers you had you writhing in your sheets, desperate for more.

Pornstar!Dan, who livestreamed just often enough to feel personal, his voice deeper and filthier as he answered live comments, adjusting the camera to give the perfect view of his inked body. It always seemed coincidental how his streams were perfectly timed with your nights, as though he somehow knew when you craved him the most. You just never guessed that it was because he was livestreaming from right across the street.

Pornstar!Dan, whose videos you’d fallen asleep watching more than once, waking up to that sinful view of his hardened cock paused on your phone screen. You’d bite your lip, cheeks burning, before turning it off and pretending you didn’t spend hours thinking about his body.

Pornstar!Dan, who had that one tattoo on his bicep, the one your fingers always traced on your screen while imagining what it would feel like under your touch. It wasn’t until much later, seeing a glimpse of ink peeking out from Daniel’s sleeve as he flipped burgers on a grill during a neighbourhood barbecue party, that you wondered why it looked so familiar.

Pornstar!Dan, whose voice haunted you even in daylight, especially when your neighbor Daniel casually asked how your day was with that same deep rasp. It was a coincidence, you told yourself. Nothing more.

The connection never clicked. How could it? By day, Daniel was your kind neighbor, and by night, Pornstar!Dan was your private obsession.

Because surely, it couldn’t be the same person. Right?

[wejustvibing]

oh damn

[jakejeffreyperalta]

lewis hamilton is stronger than me because if they made me watch my very public homoerotic codependent childhood friendship divorce on two big screens in front of people i would crash out so bad

[icaruspendragon]

he did. my husband tried. he tried to warn them. he did. he said to them, “i’m not as into this as my wife is. i just like looking at cars, but she’s got all the facts and specs and everything. she’s practically a walking encyclopedia.”

and they didn’t believe him. they laughed. they shrugged it off. they shrugged me off. they were warned. and yet they still decided to try and put me to the test. they were warned. they were warned of what would happen to them. and yet they didn’t listen.

their ambition made them icarian. their folly turned my warmth from brilliant to sweltering.

their hubris led to their humiliation.

they were warned. but ambition makes men bold.

this is all just a very dramatic way of saying that grown men decided to play a game of, “oh you’re a fan? prove it” only to have their asses handed to them by their opponent.

this was the opponent btw: